Inferno_Part 3_The Vault

by T. K. Leigh

  “So James isn’t involved?”

  “The guy said he had evidence pointing to someone else.”

  “Who?”

  Reluctant, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. I had no problem telling Mila that my almost father-in-law may have been responsible for a young girl’s death. But the idea that my own father may be the one involved sickened me. I didn’t want to say anything until I had more concrete answers. There could have been a completely innocent reason for his contact with Cynthia Edelman, although sneaking around and using an anonymous email certainly didn’t make him look innocent.

  “He’s still working on that,” I finally said.

  “When do you plan on seeing him again?” Mila asked guardedly.

  I released a heavy sigh, pinching my lips together. “We don’t have any plans to see each other.”

  “What?” Mila snapped her head toward me, her eyes wide. “Why not?”

  I looked at her, my chin quivering. “Because, Mila. We’re too broken. After everything I’ve been through with my parents and Brock, I need time to learn to be myself. I refuse to be one of those women who becomes so dependent on another person for their own livelihood and happiness that I lose sight of who I am. I just…” I inhaled a shaky breath through the heaviness in my throat, the ache in my chest, the breaking of my heart. I met her eyes, my own brimming with tears. “It killed me to walk away, but I had to. He needs to come to terms with what happened to his daughter, and I need to be on my own for the first time in my life.”

  Not saying a word, Mila simply reached across the couch, grabbing my hand. That was all I needed. Reassurance from the one person who knew me better than anyone else that I’d made the right decision.

  “Do you love him?” she asked.

  I stared at her, my silence giving her the answer.

  “And you left simply because it wasn’t the right time?”

  “I had to,” I protested, not sure I wanted to tell her I flipped a coin to decide which path to take, something the old Ellie never would have done. “I—”

  “Do you know why Steven and my relationship worked, even when I came back home and started college, and we were only able to see each other maybe once a month for four years?”

  I shook my head.

  “Because we both knew the odds were against us. I was eighteen and he was twenty-two when we met on our girls’ weekend in San Francisco. I was starting at San Diego State. He was beginning his last year at Berkeley. I lived in Southern California. He lived up north in San Jose. Nothing about us should have worked, especially when he was across the country at the FBI Academy for six months. But it did because we didn’t give up on each other. We both had things to learn. We both needed to discover who we were, what we were meant to be.” She wrapped her arms around me and I settled against her. “Sometimes the best love you can find is between two imperfect, broken people who learn to navigate through life’s storms together. There are few things worth fighting for, but you can be damn sure love is one of them.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe you should have fought more.”

  “I did,” I murmured. “But fate fought even harder.”

  Chapter Three

  When I emerged from the guest room the following morning after a restless night, vivacious laughter immediately filled the air. I smiled what felt like my first genuine smile since arriving back in LA and headed down the stairs, rounding the corner of the kitchen.

  “Auntie Ellie!” two little voices exclaimed the instant they saw me, running from Mila and flinging their tiny arms around my legs.

  “Hey, girls.” I squatted down, peering into their bright eyes. Both were a mirror copy of their mother, right down to the freckles running across their cheeks and nose. “Did you have fun at your grandmother’s yesterday?”

  Ashlyn, the four-year-old, nodded enthusiastically. “I got to play outside with her dog.” She looked at Mila and Steven standing by the island, drinking coffee. “When can we get a doggie?”

  Steven narrowed his eyes as he walked toward her and tousled her strawberry-blonde curls. He looked like he’d just gotten home, still dressed in the dark suit he always wore to the Bureau, although his tie was loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His sandy hair was a bit disheveled, his blue eyes bloodshot from the obvious lack of sleep. I wondered what kind of case he was currently working on that would have kept him out all night. I had no idea how Mila slept with the thought that, at any minute, her phone may ring with the call all law enforcement spouses must fear. But she never thought too much of it. It was just a way of life for her.

  “When your sister’s a little bit older.” He turned to me as I stood back up, his eyes filled with compassion and worry at the same time. “Hey, Ellie.”

  “Hey, Steven.”

  He kissed my cheek, then wrapped his arms around me, giving me a longer than normal hug. I wondered how much Mila had told him. Probably everything. It didn’t bother me. They were the only two people who knew the real Ellie…until Dante.

  I cleared my throat, cutting through the tension that seemed to be building with each second. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

  “You can stay as long as you need. We mean it. A week. A month. A year. Whatever you need until you’re back on your feet.”

  I smiled at him, then shifted my gaze to Mila, giving her a nod of thanks. I doubted I’d be able to get through what faced me on the road ahead without their support. I probably would have had no choice but to go groveling back to my parents or, worse, Brock. I’d never been more grateful to have two friends who would stand by my side, no questions asked.

  “I hope I won’t need to stay too long.” I headed to the coffee maker and popped a pod in the brewer, then placed a mug underneath. “I came back so I could learn to stand on my own two feet. Living with you guys longer than necessary sort of defeats the purpose. I have some money saved up, but I don’t want to eat into that if I don’t have to.”

  “What’s going on with your job?” Steven asked.

  I shrugged. “No idea. I need to call them today. When I was in Rome, the senior partner left a message. There are only two reasons the senior partner of Sullivan, Sullivan & Grace would call you. I highly doubt it’s because he wants to promote me.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “So that only leaves one other explanation.” I sighed dejectedly. “But even if he isn’t going to fire me, I can’t stay at that firm, not when my parents are the only reason they hired me in the first place. I need to get a job based on my qualifications, not because someone owes my family a favor or hopes to get something out of it in return.”

  “We’re here to help, Ellie,” Mila offered. “Any way we can. You can use Steven’s car for now. He always uses the Bureau’s car anyway.”

  “The only place I really need to go in the next few days is over to Brock’s to pack up all my things.”

  Mila pressed her lips together, her body tensing. “I’ll go with you,” she said, her voice unwavering, making it known there was no arguing the point. Her eyes floated briefly to Steven, who gave her a quick nod. “We both will.”

  I never told her exactly what Brock had done in Italy. I didn’t have to. She knew. She had tried to warn me about him, tried to tell me something didn’t sit right with her. I brushed it off, thinking my parents would never allow me to date someone who wasn’t good enough. In retrospect, I couldn’t believe how naïve I’d been.

  “Thank you.” I gave them a sincere look, glancing at the clock on the wall. I released a defeated sigh when I saw the time. “I guess I should call the firm and get this over with.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mila placed her hand on my arm. “I know how much you love what you do.”

  “It’s okay. This is just one more thing I need to cross off my list so I can finally move on with my life.” I gave
her a reassuring smile, then turned, heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Once I was in the guest room, I closed the door behind me and grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand.

  A part of me hoped to see a message from Dante, even though I’d refused to give him my number. My heart deflated a bit when the only message was from Brock telling me to come get all my stuff before he sent it to the dump. Someone must have told him I was back. Probably my mother. I’d deal with him later. One issue at a time. That was what I kept telling myself when my brain reeled with everything I had to button up, thinking it would be so easy to apologize, grovel, beg, and go back to my old life. But that wasn’t an option. I needed to do this. For me. I’d spent my entire life doing everything for other people, making everyone else happy. Now was the time to focus on myself. And the first step was no longer working at my current law firm.

  Unlocking the screen of my phone, I found Mr. Sullivan’s contact information, pressed it, then raised my cell to my ear. Almost instantly, his secretary, Paula, picked up.

  “Mr. Sullivan’s office.”

  “Hi, Paula. It’s Eleanor Crenshaw. I believe Mr. Sullivan is expecting my call.”

  “Please hold,” she said in a curt tone. No small talk. No asking how I was doing. Nothing. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still caught me off guard that a woman I’d been relatively friendly with in the past would act as if she’d never met me.

  After holding for close to five minutes, a voice finally said, “Good morning, Miss Crenshaw.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Sullivan. I apologize for not getting back to you sooner. I was out of the country.”

  “Well, I trust that gave you sufficient time to recuperate and reflect after this month’s…unexpected events.”

  I plastered on the expression my mother had spent years coaching me on. Lips curved up slightly at the corners. Eyes interested, but not overly enthusiastic. Chin lifted just a bit. And never, ever let your true emotions show. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see me. It was a habit.

  “It did. Thank you.”

  There was a pause on the line, as if he didn’t expect me to be so blasé about what had happened, as if he hoped I’d butter up to him about what a mistake I’d made, what a foolish woman I had been, how I was willing to do anything to make amends. Maybe the old Ellie would have. Not anymore.

  “I’m glad you returned my call, Miss Crenshaw,” Mr. Sullivan continued, emphasizing his words, as if reminding me that I should have had a different last name at this point. “As I’m sure you can imagine, what happened between you and Congressman Harrison has put you in the public eye. And, consequently, it has put this law firm under scrutiny, as well. We pride ourselves on having associates who are hardworking, honest…and fully committed to our clients. Associates who won’t allow personal obligations or issues to affect their work.”

  My demeanor remained calm as I absorbed what he said. Most people would argue that personal issues should have no bearing on one’s professional career, especially someone like myself, who routinely went above and beyond, who regularly worked sixty or eight hours a week, who always got her clients exactly what they wanted. I wasn’t going to fight for a job I no longer wanted. Not at this firm anyway. If I had to do some legal aid work or start my own practice, I would. I could help those who really needed it, instead of dealing with mergers, acquisitions, suits between shareholders and parent corporations, and everything else I’d been stuck doing the past two years.

  “And since I ran out on my wedding because my fiancé was cheating on me, clients may not feel I’ll remain committed to them.”

  “I’m glad you’re so understanding.” His voice brightened. “We’ve prepared a rather nice settlement for you, which will be more than sufficient to hold you over until you’re able to secure employment elsewhere, perhaps a smaller firm.”

  I briefly closed my eyes, knowing precisely what he was trying to tell me without saying it. He was going to make it so I’d never work at a big firm again. I’d essentially just been sent from the Major Leagues to a farm team, with no hope of ever returning. I wondered why he cared so much. Then again, this man went to law school with my mother and was one of my father’s golfing buddies. If they wanted to make me pay for my disappearing act from my own wedding, all they had to do was ask and Mr. Sullivan would certainly comply. He wasn’t going to ruin a long-time friendship with a powerful senator, even if that senator may be involved in a child’s death.

  “I’ll have Paula email you the exact details, but we’re offering you full salary for four months. Full health benefits for a year, unless employment is obtained sooner. You can keep the company car, and the firm will be making a substantial contribution to your 401K.”

  “That is certainly very generous, Mr. Sullivan.” I smiled, my voice exuding all the professionalism I could muster. It almost seemed like a bribe. He didn’t have any work-related grounds to terminate me. In fact, I was one of the most promising young attorneys they had. Yet he wanted me gone, hoping to avoid any public relation issues that could result from my firing. “But I’m not interested.”

  “Miss Crenshaw, I—”

  “You don’t have to buy me off,” I interrupted. “I don’t want your money. My parents got me this job, and I’m grateful for everything I’ve learned during my time at your firm. I’ve had the privilege of working with the very best of the best, but I walked away from my own wedding because I saw my future and didn’t like what awaited me. I want to actually work for what I have.” I released a small breath, taking a moment to compose my thoughts. “Mr. Sullivan, your father built his business from a one-room office he rented in the back of an accounting firm. He waited by that phone for weeks, hoping a client would call. He worked.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what that’s like, but I want to find out. If I take your money, I won’t be free from my parents’ control, which is what I want, what I need.”

  There was a short pause. I chewed on my bottom lip, unsure how he would perceive my words. Then he finally broke the silence. “Well, you’ve certainly surprised me, Miss Crenshaw.”

  I laughed politely. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is. You’re free to come in and clean out your things when it’s convenient. Or I can have them sent to you.”

  “Don’t bother. There’s nothing there I need.”

  “I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. I’m sorry this is the way it had to be.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. Thank you.”

  “Goodbye, Miss Crenshaw.”

  “Goodbye.” I hung up and sank onto the bed, blowing out a long breath as a weight lifted off my shoulders. I thought I’d be anxiety-ridden with the notion of being officially unemployed and having to find a job in the over-saturated legal market. But after everything I’d been through the past few weeks, I truly believed if it was meant to be, fate would make it so.

  Chapter Four

  Mila pulled the SUV in back of a rented truck and I glanced to my right at the quaint, two-story cottage in the heart of Brentwood where I lived with Brock the past three years. I didn’t know what I expected as I stared at the white exterior and navy blue door. It looked just like it did less than two weeks ago when I hurried down the cobblestone walkway, pulling my luggage behind me, and jumped into this very car so Mila could drive me to the airport instead of First Congregational Church in the heart of Los Angeles where I was to be married. It was as if the past few weeks never happened.

  “You don’t have to go in if you think it’ll be too much.” Mila reached over from the driver’s seat and squeezed my bicep. “I know what stuff is yours. I’ll box it all up.”

  “No,” I sighed. “I need to do this. This is all part of my journey.”

  Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the handle and opened the door, stepping onto the sidewalk. I paused befor
e heading up the walkway, staring at the front of the house. The grass was perfectly manicured. The flowerbeds by the entrance were pristine, not one petal out of place. I helped Brock pick this house out of the dozens of homes he’d looked at. It was on the smaller side, only two thousand square feet, but it had an irresistible charm that was hard to find in the land of cookie-cutter houses and HOAs. At one point in my life, I imagined growing old here. Now it seemed like a foreign place.

  I continued up the walkway with Mila as Steven jumped out of the truck and joined us. When I noticed a light snap off in one of the windows on the second floor, I furrowed my brow. Mila must have seen it, too.

  “Did you know he would be here?”

  I slowly shook my head. “No. When I texted him yesterday, he said he was in D.C. until Friday. That’s why I chose to come today.”

  “Then it’s a good thing Steven came with us.”

  My heart thumped in my chest, my hands growing clammy, my stomach rolling at the thought of facing Brock, of staring into his eyes…eyes that were nearly identical to Dante’s. How would I react? Would I break down? Would it make Brock feel like he won?

  A part of me wanted to turn around and text Brock to just toss my things so I wouldn’t have to see him. I didn’t exactly care about my clothes or anything else. But I also knew this was part of cutting the chains tying me to my past. I needed to face Brock again, to let him see he didn’t scare me, that I wasn’t going to hide from him, regardless of his behavior in Rome.

  Squaring my shoulders, I steeled myself. “Let’s get this over with.” I reached into my purse and grabbed my keys, stepping onto the front stoop. Just as I was about to insert the key into the lock, the door opened. Brock stood before me, his dark eyes narrowed, a sanctimonious, self-righteous expression on his face.